


For Gold or Silver

by StarrKiwi



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: I don't watch them a lot, I just kinda watch them in the background when they are on, I really don't know much about the olympics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 15:28:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18897442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarrKiwi/pseuds/StarrKiwi
Summary: When Race sees Spot's floor routine, he knows that Spot will be his biggest competitor,  but soon, something more than the Olympic Medals are ridding on the line.In other words, Spot and Race are both Olympian gymnastic athletes and it's a great time.





	For Gold or Silver

**Author's Note:**

> I got a Sprace Olympic AU prompt on tumblr from angry-ace. It was a challenge to write since I don't know a lot about the Olympics, meaning lots of research had to be done, and even then I'm sure that there are a ton of inconsistencies throughout the story.  
> Spot is American and Race is Italian. And since Race is Italian his name is actually Gara, which is Race in Italian, but I call him Race because... It's Race. Also I'm sure they don't let the Olympic Athletes go by their nicknames but they do in this story.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!!

Race knew he could do this. He could almost feel that floor event gold metal weighing around his neck. He was better than any of the guys he'd seen up there. He could do this. He just had to qualify, and then win the Gold.

A boy stepped up to the mat, and while Race didn't hear his name, he could feel that gold slipping out of his hands as soon as he took his first jump.

Man, this boy was good. Race couldn't help but stare as he flipped and jumped and landed like gravity wasn't a factor at all. Race knew his coach was trying to get his attention, but he couldn't take his eyes off the boy on the mat.

As he ended, the boy was looking right at Race in his final pose. And- was that a wink? Did he just wink at Race? Freaking Americans.

Spot. That was his name. If Race wasn't so enchanted, he would have been more upset at the amazing routine he just witnessed.

Race was glad there were more people to go between he and Spot, because if he would have went right after, he wouldn't have been able to stand on his own two legs, never mind do his own routine.

He came in second for the qualifying, and of course, it seemed like every other event he was qualified for, so was Spot Conlon.

Seriously?

 

* * *

 

 

Race got silver on the floor. Of course he did. Spot won gold by a landslide. How was he able to do that with his body?

Race was so upset that he didn't even notice when Spot walked over to him casually after the medal ceremony. He was shorter than Race thought he was. But those arms. Race almost swooned.

"Hey, Italy.” He said to get Race’s attention. “You know, for someone who's this good and gymnastics, you would think you'd have a name like Jump or somethin'." Spot grinned at him, his heavy Brooklyn accent letting Race know exactly where in America he was from. "Why Gara?"

Race blinked. “What?”

“Gara means Race in English, Right?”

Race was at a loss for words for a moment, still staring at Spot's arms. Man, all these guys were strong, but Spot’s short height made him look even stronger. Spot waited patiently for the answer, and Race realized that he must be used to all the staring. He didn’t want to be one of _those guys_ so he looked back up at Spot with determination. "I used to practice at the Racetracks when I was younger, because that was the only space available when I wasn't with my coach. My parents never saw me in home, because I always at there when I wasn’t in the gym." His english wasn’t perfect, and his heavy Italian accent made it a little hard for Spot to understand, but Spot was satisfied with the answer.

Spot nodded in understanding, and was about continue on his way, when Race put an arm out to stop him. "What about your name? Why Spot?"

"Sorry, I only tell that story to those who beat me." He smirked at Race, who stood there in awe as he watched Spot walk away.

Race beat Spot at the parallel bars, but only barely. It was extremely close. It was so satisfying to get Gold after losing to Spot on the floor.

It was Race who came over to Spot his time. "Tell Me." He demanded, crossing his arms.

Spot stood up to look at Race, keeping his tone even. "They're my family's initials. Sam, Penny, Oliver, and Tucker. The four of them died in a car crash on the way to one of my events. The least I could do was honor them." He walked away from Race without another word.

Race starred after Spot in awe. He wasn't expecting that.

This time Spot came up to Race again, before the balance beam. He looked nervous, but was doing his best to hide it. "What got you into gymnastics?" He asked after a moment.

Race looked at Spot for a long moment. "Meeting cute boys like you." He grinned teasingly.

Spot gave Race a look. "I'm serious."

"So was I. But if you want a real answer, you'll have to beat me."

Spot scoffed, but nodded. He still looked a bit nervous.

"What's wrong?" Race finally asked.

"If you want that answer, you're going to have to beat me."

Neither of them won the balance beam. Spot came in sixth, Race came in fourth.

Both found each other this time.

Before Spot could say anything, Race started talking. "I had a playground when I was small,  and I was always always flipping around like a-” Race bit his lip, trying to think of the English word.  “Ah, ninja. Flipping like a ninja on there. My mom put me into a class because she decided that would be safer. I was good, I guess and got my own coach- here I am."

Spot looked at Race for a moment. "I didn't beat you." Was all he said.

"Yes you did, earlier. But I also beat you at this one. So it’s your turn.”

Spot sighed and sat down. "Balance beam was the event I was doing when I heard about the crash, and now every time I do it… I'm reminded of my coach running onto the floor and telling me we have to get to the hospital, _now._ My little brother was the only one alive when we got there. But he was in a coma and died before coming out of it." Race sighed and shook his head. "Balance beam used to be my best event. But… I can't do it well anymore."

Race couldn't believe this. Why were all of Spot's answers so upsetting and sad? Now he had to ask a question that wouldn't have a sad backstory answer.

While thinking, Spot spoke up again. "...Hey Higgins. You want to go get dinner after all this?"

Race almost fell over at the unexpected offer.

"But… We are rivals." He replied, not knowing what else to say. Why would Spot want to get dinner?

" _Fine._ " Spot almost spat, annoyed. “Nevermind.” He turned on his heel and left Race there, dumbfounded.

They didn't talk for the next event, but they did make awkward eye contact across the gym a lot.

Eventually, despite his coaches protests, Race walked straight over to Spot with determination. "If you beat me, I'll pay for the restaurant."

Spot faltered. "And if I don't?"

"You pay."

For the first time since their silly conversations began, Spot grinned at Race. "Deal."

"And whoever wins over all, gets to choose the restaurant."

Spot took a step back in fake surprise. "Oh, now the stakes are high."

 

* * *

 

 

Spot fell off the rings. He was clearly pissed. His insane upper body strength was supposed to guarantee him dominating the rings. The rings were his best event.

Race hadn't qualified for the rings, but he was hoping Spot would win. When the event was over, and Spot got last, he disappeared, trying to not let anyone see his anger.

Race found him in a back storage room, pacing and running a frustrated chalk covered hand through his hair, turning his hair streaks of white. Race sat down on the floor after Spot acknowledge him, but didn't tell him to leave.

"I need to punch something." Spot said with an annoyed groan after a few minutes.

Race stood up and gestured to himself, jokingly.

Spot rolled his eyes, and stomped over to Race, and for a moment, Race was afraid Spot would actually punch him.

He kissed him instead.

Race felt all the tension leave Spot’s body, and Spot pulled away a minute later, walking away without saying anything else.

"Holy Crap" Race whispered to himself.

 

* * *

 

Spot won the overall Gold Medal. Barely. He was beaming during the ceremony, and Race couldn't even be mad. Sure, he wanted that gold medal he had worked painstakingly hard for, but really, Spot deserved it, especially after all that he went through with his family. Yeah, Silver was just fine with Race.

Race leaned over to Spot once they stepped off the platforms. "I'm allergic to fish, just for your information." He said, causing Spot to smirk.

"So that fancy fish place that charges you a thousand dollars just to look at it is out of the picture?"

"I’m afraid so."

"I have the perfect place. I'll pick you up from your hotel at eight tomorrow."

 

* * *

 

Race was a nervous wreck. He changed his outfit for a tenth time, and then brushed his hair again. He had no idea where Spot was taking him, but he didn't want to be under dressed.

The knock at his door scared him so much that he dropped his hairbrush on his foot. There was a yelp, before Race picked it up, then he took a deep breath and opened the door. "Hey, come on in, I was just about to brush my teeth." He said, relieved Spot was dressed about the same as he was, a colored button down. It was weird, seeing him in something that wasn’t his uniform.

"You okay?" Spot asked, having heard Race's cry of pain.

"Fine, thank you." Race felt his cheeks darken in embarrassment,

Spot nodded and stopped inside, an amused smirk on his face seeing all the clothes strewn around the room. "This your way of packing?'

Race blushed, but nodded. "Yes. It's called, 'Panic because a cute boy is picking me up and I still have no clue what to wear.' Very effective way of packing if I do say so myself." Race teased.

Spot shook his head. "I'll have to try it sometime."

"Maybe I can teach you." Race said, the toothbrush that was now in his mouth muffling the words.

Spot laughed. "What was that? Your attractive Italian accent is way too heavy, I can’t ever understand you."

Race rolled his eyes and ignored him until his mouth was toothpaste free. "Hey, you have an accent too. And I said, ‘Maybe I can teach you how to pack like this’, But you have to beat me again.”

"Higgins, we won't be against each other for another _four years_. And that's if we both make it back."

Race grabbed his wallet and keys, opening the door for Spot. "Perfect. That will give me enough time to save up for our next date."

Spot took Race's hand and pulled him out of the room. "I hope I don't have to wait four years. You're much too enticing to let that happen."

Race blushed, and didn't know what to say after that. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Spot started walking into-

"You're joking."

"You said I could choose, and this isn't a fish place."

"I was expecting each meal to be a hundred Euros!"

"Well. Now you can pay for even more meals for us. The cheaper they are, the more you can afford to take me out."

Race looked at Spot, then shook his head. "You're impossible."

"Do you want me to pick an expensive place?" Spot asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Nope. McDonalds is perfect. Let's go."


End file.
